Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Rebecca Black gives me hope

When I was a pre-teen/teenager I remember the music that was popular was rather depressing. Eminem was pretty sad, most of the rap and hip hop was about people dying. NSynch and Backstreet Boys were happy, but we weren't allowed to actually like them. It's hard not to think back to the music of my "youth" and remember countless message songs about people dying of AIDS, drugs, gangbangs or just because they were the wrong race. When it wasn't in the music it was in the news - I was a junior when the Columbine Shootings took place.

But today the top song on iTunes is Rebecca Black's "Friday." It's awful. The lyrics are terrible. But they make me happy. Usually when people wake up in the morning they sing about the impossibility of getting out of bed and how they'd rather be dead. Rebecca talks about getting a bowl of cereal. Before the big decision of the day would be whether to get high or have an abortion. Rebecca has to decide which seat will she take in the car. It's such a big decision she sings about it twice. From the video it looks like she wants to sit in the back seat instead of kicking it in the front seat. That's nice - she's 13 - I don't think she can drive.

Finally, her weekends aren't about banging, drugs, getting drunk. They are about "fun." Lots and lots of fun. You know what I mean. She's so sure you know what I mean she doesn't say what she means. She just sings that you know what I mean. I'm convinced she means a sparkly t-shirt and some KoolAid. (The kind without cyanide.)

"Friday" makes me happy. If the worst we really have to worry about is which seat to sit in and "partyin' partyin'" then we must be doing something right.

Sunday, March 20, 2011

All I need is the apron

My wedding is coming up and though we don't really need anything and we don't want any presents (just lots of loved ones present!) I still got surprised by a few gifts.

From my husband a shiny, brand new Singer sewing machine (with a buttonholer).

From my dad a copy of The Joy of Cooking.

Think I might officially be a homemaker now.

Friday, March 18, 2011

But what I really want to do is blog

A week or so ago I looked down to watch as Emily moved from sitting to lying on her stomach to rolling onto her back, then back up again...all on her own. The remarkable part of this feat of baby strength was that I was not at all surprised. She'd been doing it for awhile and it took me at least a month to notice that I've noticed that she can roll any which way she pleases.

And that's pretty much my life. If there is anything to note I note it...then promptly forget that I've noted it because there are things to do. When Emily first rolled from tummy to back I cheered and clapped and we ran upstairs to wake up Dad and tell her she finally did it. From back to don't do it when you're on the changing table. Good. Next!

It's not that I'm not paying attention. I am. Quite a lot. I can tell by the look on her face what she's gearing up to do. I know what she's trying to grab. I see her doing all these new baby tricks. I just am too busy doing them with her (or keeping her from doing them into a wall/corner/down a flight of stairs) that I don't note them as milestones anymore I see it as the progression of our lives.

Except I want them to be milestones. My mother and I talk daily and she always asks (as she has for my entire life) "What adventures have you had today?" And I start to answer before I realize my adventure was going to the supermarket. It was fun. We enjoyed ourselves (Emily loves riding in the cart), but is is actually an adventure anymore? Is it noteworthy? Actually forget wasting paper on a note: is it blog worthy?

Shoot is it even Facebook status worthy?

I like my life. I like that the supermarket is fun. I like that a pair of clean socks has now become a toy that can mean at least 15 minutes of fun. I like all that. I like being a Mom. It's a lovely job. However, when my friends write to me and tell me of their fabulous lives then ask what I am doing I want to say something other than "breastfeeding."

I know there is something else to me than boobs...I just wish I could notice what it was.